


Dazzling with such light

by orphan_account



Series: comfortember [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batman gets called a dick but in a nice way, Cass is a bratty 8 yo, David Cain is a terrible person, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's not the focus of the fic, Referenced Drug Addiction, Self-Indulgent, So is Arthur Brown, and left her shitty dad when she realized he was about to ask her to kill steph, attempts at humor, but i felt like i should say it, by which i mean kon, in a dick grayson way, obvs, steph is bi and has a ginormous crush on both Wondergirl and Superboy, then imprinted like a duckling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Stephanie Brown is 15, trying her very best to stop her father, and somehow accidentally acquires a bratty kid sister. A tiny, 8 years old assassin kid. As one does.0/10, would rather go on a ski trip with Killer Croc.For comfortember day 2: First day/Night
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain
Series: comfortember [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995100
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Dazzling with such light

**Author's Note:**

> as usual i own nothing!!  
> canon divergence, cass was born 8 years later than she is in canon so she is 8ish to steph's 15-16.  
> this is so self indulgent i swear to god

So, Stephanie hadn’t meant to spy.

Okay, no, that was a lie. She absolutely had.

Stephanie hadn’t meant to be caught spying. There. That was better. She definitely hadn’t meant to be caught spying.

Something about being held by the throat against a wall with a knife made her have deep realizations like that.

But. Well. She’d known her father was up to no good, again, and Batman wasn’t up to his usual standards, a-freaking-gain. And. Someone had to do something. She was tired of waiting for other people to do things.

She hadn’t been expecting this, though, that was for sure.

“Wow, okay, don’t kill me,” Steph squeaked, quietly as she could. As far as intimidation attempts went, hers was rather on the pathetic side.

The dark, furious, eyes of the kid that could kill her at any second pretty much had the intimidation market covered, though. She looked around eight or nine years old, or a bit younger maybe. Her hair was a mess of dark, tangled, strands. Her face was littered in dirty bruises. Her nails were almost bitten off, and they were bleeding a little.

Stephanie would have pitied her more, if, you know. Her throat wasn’t on the verge of being slit by said terrifying kid.

The girl didn’t say a word. Didn’t move in for the kill either, though.

“Better let me go now, or you’ll live to regret it, pal,” Steph said.

Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have tried to sneak in a random supervillain meeting her dad was having. And maybe, she was talking out of her ass.

Case in point, the girl didn’t let her go. So no luck. Not that she’d been expecting much on that front.

Not only had she not successfully managed to sneak into a random supervillain meeting her father was having (with a man named Cain, which, on its own meant nothing to her, Steph needed more to go on to tip the GCPD — and more importantly Batman — off) but she hadn’t even managed to find the right room.

No, instead she’d stumbled onto a creepy, knife-wielding, girl.

She tried to knee the girl in the gut. Not her proudest moment, kneeing an 8 years old in the gut, but then again, neither was being thwarted on her very first day of vigilanting by said 8 years old.

Before she’d even started moving, the girl had slid gracefully out of the way, managing to keep her knife in firm grip at Steph’s throat all the while.

‘Really?’ Her eyes seemed to mock. ‘Are you that pathetic?’

Maybe Steph was reading into it a little.

Again, something about being held against a wall with a knife made her question her life choices.

They heard footsteps echo down the corridor, and stared at each other, bewildered. Or, at the very least, there was a lot of bewilderment on Steph’s part. The kid mostly looked impassive.

“Oh, I’m dead.” She realized, with a sudden form of clarity she was pretty sure should have clobbered her earlier on in the night. “So dead. He’s going to kill me.”

And her dad wouldn’t hesitate either.

Something must have shown on her face, because the girl frowned at her, then her eyes widened in sudden realization. She dropped the knife like it had burned her. Her newly free hand grabbed Steph’s wrist and she yanked her forward. With surprising strength, too.

Steph blinked, brain trying to catch up with her legs, to follow the kid down the hallway.

Not that she wanted to, per se, but the other direction lead to her father, so.

Yeah.

This was a terrible first night out.

0/10, would rather go on a ski trip with Killer Croc.

The kid jerked to a halt in front of the small gap in the wall Steph had used to.... invite... herself in.

‘Go’, everything about her body language seemed to convey.

“What,” Steph said, mind blank.

The girl pushed her through the opening. Steph swore as her shoulders caught on the drywall, and she awkwardly pushed forward, to try and get unstuck.

When she’d looked back, the girl had disappeared.

Steph decided to beat a strategic retreat. She couldn’t get take her father down if she was dead.

———————

Retreat and regroup.

A sound plan in theory.

But she could feel the weight of a gaze on the back of her neck even as she slalomed awkwardly from rooftop to rooftop. And no matter how hard she tried to shake off her pursuer...

It never disappeared. The tingling feeling stayed, cranking up her anxiety, dialing up her paranoia.

Steph couldn’t go home. She couldn’t lead them straight to her house.

But she couldn’t stay out alone in the open either, that was just asking to be murdered.

And, startlingly, maybe, for a Gothamite — or a newly created vigilante — Steph didn’t exactly want to be murdered. Even if she was aware that it was something of a probability.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the feeling disappeared.

She almost screamed when the little girl melted out of the shadows like a 18th century sickly child. Or maybe Boo from Monster Inc.

Somehow both, at the same time.

She didn’t. Scream, mind.

But she did throw a punch. The kid threw her down like she weighted nothing, pinned her to the ground in an arm lock Steph was sure would dislocate her arm, smiling all the while, still eerily silent. Steph swore when she was let go, but made no move to attack.

And then.

No matter where Steph ran.

There was no throwing her off.

———————

She stared, over her tangled fingers and the side of a cold unforgiving table, as the kid dug into the gigantic ice cream Steph had ordered.

That had to be enough, right? That sundae would distract any kid.

She made to leave. Almost hugging the walls in her attempts at stealth, holding her breath right until she was stepping foot outside, in the raindrop patterned street.

“GAH,” she yelped, at the kid that was somehow in front of her again, Jesus Christ, how had she gotten out of the shop without noticing, how in the actual hell—

————————

She stayed out as late as she could, making various attempts to leave the kid behind. At the bus stop. By hiding in a bunch of dumpsters. On a boat.

It felt like a twisted version of hide and seek.

And it wasn’t exactly like she could show up to the police station. ‘Hi, I’ve found this kid while spying on a supervillain meeting my dad is having. Please don’t send her back to the creepy murdery ways of whatever that place was.”

She never did manage that.

No, instead, Steph stared at the kid, innocently beating her legs against the side of her bed.

The kid stared her down, chewing on a stray strand of hair.

Was this kidnapping.

Had she kidnapped a child. Had she kidnapped a child, and accidentally at that.

Did accidental kidnapping count as villainy. Was she following her dad’s footsteps. Was this what being a villain felt like?

When she blinked next, the girl had disappeared.

“Shit,” Steph swore, and went to check if her mom was going to be murdered.

——————————

“What,” She spluttered, “-what are you doing?”

The kid — and wow, Steph couldn’t just keep calling her that, she needed something to call her asap, this was becoming awkward. — dismissed her with a single look, choosing instead to plunge her hand right back in the peanut butter jar, then lick it.

Rude little brat.

Also, disgusting. They’d just gone running and climbing all over Gotham.

“Okay, no, that’s mine.” Steph snapped grabbing the jar, then the kid, and dragging both out of the kitchen.

She only realized that she was being allowed to do that when they both came to an awkward stop in front of the bathroom door.

The girl was still licking her fingers clean of the last remnants of peanut butter.

Steph made a disgusted face. The girl made a disgusted face back.

“Oh, screw you.” Steph said, feeling peevish. Maybe a little panicked. She was in no way prepared to handle this, what was she even thinking trying to take down her father alone? And where was the Batman even? What was he even doing, beside being violent as hell these days?

Well, slightly less so since he’d gotten Robin back. Since Robin’s Narrows’s accent disappeared. Still. If she managed to stop him, maybe she’d be condemning her dad to the most violent beating ever. To torture. To a life in Arkham.

And, yeah, he was a shit dad. A small, furious, part of her wanted him to feel that.

Another, terrified, smaller part wanted to curl up in a tight ball at the thought.

Hell. What was she doing?

Stephanie tried to take a full breath, to center herself back in the present.

The girl smiled. It was a very predatory sort of smile. One of her teeth was broken. A scar ran down the length of her right arm, and Steph was no medical expert, not like her mom was, but she knew shitty adults pretty well and—

In what world could she let this happen?

She was in no way prepared to handle this, no, that much was clear, but she’d promised herself that she would help people. This girl needed help.

“Oh my god, okay. Bathroom, shower, all of it. Now.”

She tried to pull the girl inside the room.

The girl did not budge. Rather she looked at Steph in… amusement? Maybe?

As much as tiny assassins could look amused, Steph guessed.

“Dude,” She said, out of her depth. “-you could paint Gotham on my bedroom’s walls with the amount of grime that’s on you. Come on. We need to make this at least somewhat believable.”

Blank.

Stephanie let go of her wrist.

“Okay.” She said. “Okay.” She still wasn’t sure whether or not the girl could actually understand her, but she seemed to like it when Steph talked. So talking she would do.

She stepped in the bathroom, walking backwards to keep eye contact with the girl.

“Okay,” she repeated again, “-so. I’m just going to go right there. Nice and easy. Oh wow, look at that, water isn’t even bright green today. Batman must have taken control over the water supply back.” She wondered if she looked as much of an idiot as she felt. “That’s good. Not that you couldn’t take a little Ace Chemical, I’m sure you could, but we all could stand for less accidental genetic mutation, right?”

Nothing. A micro-raise of a dark eyebrow at best. Still, she still had her attention. Better than nothing.

She passed her hand under the light trickle of water a few times.

That made the girl walk into the room.

She stalked her way to Steph. Looked from her hand, under the water, to her face. Back to her hand.

Then slowly, lightly, not looking away from Steph, she put one finger under the stream.

Yanked it back. Frowned at it, nose twitching, analyzing it, for a good minute. When nothing happened, she slowly, ever so slowly put it back under the water.

Steph kinda wanted to hit something. What the hell had she been through that she distrusted water.

“Yup, that’s it. Just warm. No nasty surprises. And, hey, if I actually manage to get you to trust me within the next twenty minutes, it might even stay that way.”

A fool’s hope, but so was trying to stop her father by herself.

To her surprise, the girl climbed into the bathtub, had her shirt thrown on the ground in Steph’s next blink, and had shoved her entire head under the stream by the time her mouth had finished dropping open.

“Oh my god,” Steph squeaked, letting her mouth run away from her, “This is so not how I wanted to see another girl naked.”

She fled the bathroom.

——————

Steph was frowning at her jar of peanut butter, trying to decide whether salvaging it would be seriously disgusting, or beneficial - since her mom wouldn’t hand her money for another grocery run for at least another week, and she didn’t exactly want to waste stuff. Plus, you know, peanut butter. - by the time the girl came back down, dripping water all over the place.

Drowning in Steph’s clothes, _and_ dripping water all over the place.

Steph could still hear the shower running. Usually she could — should have been able to — hear noises coming from the bathroom from just about any part of the house. Her stairs creaked something fierce, too, something she always kept an ear out for.

Yet, she hadn’t heard the girl move at all.

The girl offered her a brilliant, beaming, smile. The kind you looked at and thought the world wasn’t such a shitty place after all.

“Have at it,” Steph sighed, gesturing tiredly at the peanut butter, and went to shut the shower off.

——————

Her mom didn’t even blink at the presence of another kid.

Steph had helped refill her prescription the day before, after all.

She wondered if she would ever stop falling for that. Or hating herself for it.

“She’s mute, mom.” Steph had explained tentatively, cringing at how bad the lie was. There was so much more to explain about the girl’s circumstances than the speech impediment. Or that she clearly couldn’t understand spoken language.

“That’s nice, sweetie.”

And Steph had definitely wanted to cry, but she’d wanted to punch something so much more. She’d grabbed her hood, the sealed envelope with the first clue, and climbed out of the window.

Her unexpected ‘guest’ had seemed intrigued by that.

She’d followed Steph, climbing to the roof with the ease and grace of a dancer. Her shadow had brushed past her, jumping lightly from tile to tile, from rooftop to rooftop, silent, barely a gust of wind. Hair whipping past her face, laughing, free in a way Steph had never seen before.

Steph’d tripped, caught herself on the bird shit-filled storm drain, and sworn, low and vicious, at her bleeding palms.

By the time the first clue was delivered, she had a growing collection of bruises on her arms and knees and the girl had something like a whole damn lot of amused pity shining in her eyes.

By the time the first clue was delivered, the tight coil of tension burning in her stomach had eased.

——————

Ignoring the terrible, gut wrenching nightmares the kid seemed to have near every night, things continued.... surprisingly well from there. She managed to fly under her father’s and his goons’ notice.

They settled in a sort of routine. Steph went to school during the day, and spied on her dad at night, bonding with the kid in the few moments in between.

The little brat continued to find great amusement in pinning Steph to the carpeted floor, each arm lock somehow more complicated than the last.

Steph lasted slightly longer each time, though.

She also seemed to find great amusement in laughing at Steph every single time she caught herself staring slightly too long at Wonder Girl’s or Superboy’s arms on tv or on posters.

Not irl.

She wished.

So far, the girl’s interests seemed to be ballet, and food. She could never get enough of both, it would seem. Especially together.

Steph invested in a copy of Swan Lake. Then a copy of Nutcracker.

Two days later, her hatred for the sugar plum fairy had grown to levels beyond a human’s scope of understanding.

They created most of the clues Steph left for the city to find. She also tried to teach her sign language and detective work.

They flew, night after night, the crisp air exhilarating in a way nothing else ever was, especially not encounters with Dean.

“Young padawan, let me teach you the ways of life,” Steph grinned, shaking a bottle of spray paint. She pulled her mask down her face, then pulled the gas mask — every citizen had one, in case of Rogue attack— securely on the kid’s face. She’d put aside meal and phone money to get her a set of non-descriptive black clothes, and a purple hoodie her size. “First rule of spray painting is. This is an art form. Do not spray paint crude, rudimentary, dicks when you could paint Batman there to leave the exact same message.”

The kid shook her own can, cautiously. Relaxed her shoulders in a way that meant she was smiling when Steph shot her a double thumbs up.

What they created ended up being a clue Steph was particularly proud of.

Trying to save the city with another person at her side was pretty fun.

————————

“Okay, no.” She snapped. The girl looked at her with a curious, intrigued, expression, even as she continued chewing on her nail. A little like Steph was a particularly interesting dancing puppy, maybe. “Stop that.”

Blood was starting to well up from all the chewing.

“Stop,” She said again, to no effect other than another confused look. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The girl stilled, completely. Barely blinking, barely breathing. Her eyes never leaving Steph’s face.

“God, I need to find a way to find you help, somehow.”

So far, the girl had mostly helped herself. Saved herself. Saved Steph, too.

Steph sighed and went to retrieve her nail polish.

She’d learned by now, she knew that despite the fact that the girl tentatively trusted her. Trusted her for a lot of things, really. She knew she still needed to test things on herself first before the girl would try them.

She needed to find a way to offer her a real life. Papers. A way to go to school, maybe access to a speech therapist.

Maybe she could find out what had happened to Batgirl. Or maybe she could try and ask for Robin’s help, once her dad was in prison, and it was safe to be herself again.

She realized she’d come to care about the kid.

Fuck.

—————

And _holy shit_ , Steph had just bricked Robin in the face.

Robin.

Brick.

In the face.

Face.

 _Whoooosh_.

Brick.

Robin.

She giggled, a bit hysterically.

Reflexes were wild.

She was dead. She was so, so, so, so dead. Batman would just beat her father up, then her with it, and throw them both in a shared cell in Blackgate, or Arkham, or wherever it was he threw lunatics these days. Steph’s only saving grace would be her reputation — or worse, his — , and really she didn’t have that many stunts to brag abo-

Holy shit, she had _bricked_ Robin in the face.

How many people could say that?

Another laugh escaped her.

A small hand started carding through her hair. One, two. Stop. Repeat. One, two. Stop. Repeat.

She looked up.

The girl was petting her hair slowly. She was still in what Steph had dubbed her ‘vigilante clothes’, a simple black outfit they’d taken from Steph wardrobe. It was stained bright purple from their stunt with spray painting. Around her shoulders was a bright yellow cape, trailing behind her on the ground with how big it was on her.

“Shhh,” she said, keeping up the soothing motion. “Shhh. SKaay.”

Steph appreciated the effort, really, she did.

“Where,” she hiccuped, “-where’d you get the cape?” The girl pet her hair one more time, then stopped.

She mimed hitting something with a brick, did a little pirouette, proudly showing off the twirling yellow fabric, then tucked the cape, _Robin’s_ stolen cape, tighter around herself. Her smile was smug, soft.

They were so, so dead.

“M’n.” The girl said, before stopping, with a frown. “Mine.” She enunciated carefully, after a few tries Steph tried not to laugh hysterically through. Not that she was laughing at the girl, but still. It felt rude.

“I sincerely doubt that, young lady,” came an unmistakable growl behind them.

Together, they fell in a battle stance to face the new threat.

The lower edges of Batman’s cape settled down with the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! pls take good care of yourself


End file.
